The Count and His Dragon
by Jen Leonhart
Summary: The cousin of Edward, a princess of another country, finds herself bethrothed at the whim of King Edward to the count of Anjou. What will come of this?


_No...How could this happen? To me? I have been...defeated..._Princess Raylinth's eyes remained closed as she lay on her back on the dirt of the arena. She tried desperately to block out the sounds of the crowd, cheering her loss. Their cheers and cries were impossible to drown: it resounded deep into her soul. Never before had she faced such a profound loss.

As declared by the rules of the tournament set by King Edward, she was now to become the bride of the only man who could defeat her: Count Adhemar of Anjou. The young woman was quite certain she was doomed in all senses of the word. She would be the first Paladin of the Drachen to ever marry and it was not even for love. The man, Adhemar, while handsome, was not the kindest nor the most honorable of men. They had spoken a few times and she had found him to be somewhat charming. It had seemed strange, then, that he had courted her even though the ancient law of her people refused her marriage.

"Get up, little cousin." A gentle voice broke into her reverie. After a moment, she opened her eyes reluctantly and they focused on her beloved cousin, Prince Edward II. Without waiting for any more acknowledgement, he deftly lifted her from the ground to set her upon her unsteady feet. He gave her an uneasy smile while brushing dust from her armor.

Raylinth's bright blue eyes quickly scanned the area. Adhemar was no where in sight. Her jaw went slack a little. He had not even stayed to make sure that she was not badly hurt, even though her biggest wound was given to her by him. It became stunningly apparent that she was no more than another trophy to him.

At this, the girl's eyes narrowed. She bent to pick up her swords from where the count had forced them from her hands. Uttering a curse below her breath, she brushed past the Welsh prince to stride angrily out of the arena. She could hear him call after her, but she paid him no heed. It had become clear to her that the tournament was only a game and she was a political pawn. Her uncle, the king, was not unkind and, in a better state of mind, she was sure she would be able to understand his reasons. This same thing happened to many women...

...But not to her. She was above them all, she was the Holy Princess of Solamnia, she was the Paladin of the Drachen. Let it happen to them. She would sigh and shake her head, possibly comment on how unfortunate it was. She would fix it, though. She would make sure they were repaid for their dishonorable actions. They would not use her.

"No, Raylinth," Edward's voice finally cleared its way through her angry thoughts. He caught her by her unwounded arm as his gait took him to her side. It was though he was reading her thoughts. "Your heart will not allow it."

The princess came to an abrupt stop in her attempts to pull away from him and stared at him. She sighed and knew he was right: she was a Solamnic princess and her honor was her life. While her violent desires quelled, her anger grew.

Edward sighed, finally looking away from his cousin's flashing eyes. He wished he could reverse his father's orders. The tournament had been fixed, the competitors strategically ordered so that they would wear her down enough for the count to finish her off. It was Adhemar that King Edward wanted his neice to marry. It seemed to be the season for the king to break traditions.

"Edward..." Raylinth whispered with a trembling voice, suddenly paling and becoming still. She lightly bit down on her bottom lip. "Please..." With that, she fell forward against her cousin, unconscious.

Count Nicholas Adhemar smiled smugly as he dropped his dark gauntlets onto the wooden table in his tent. _A great victory_, he thought, _with an even greater prize_. Her wealth, her power, her beauty: they were all wonderful assets. He laughed to himself as he opened his black surcoat and tugged his shirt open a bit. The girl had been a superb fighter, even as worn down as she was. He loved the challenge of breaking a new horse and his little princess would be no different. She was well-known for her willfulness and he would take it from her.

No sooner had he sat down and propped his feet up than a messenger came for him. Adhemar raised his dark brow expectantly and the page bowed deeply at the waist. "My lord, the Prince Edward, summons you to the royal infirmary for your lady was fallen."

Adhemar smirked. He was, in fact, impressed that the girl had lasted so long. Not many men he knew could claim the skill Raylinth did. The count took his time to drink from his goblet of wine. With a slightly aggravated sigh, he rose from the chair and was silent as the followed the page.

Prince Edward's eyes glinted with anger as he saw Adhemar enter. This was all his fault. It was because of his utter arrogance that his cousin was hurt. He knew her well - in time, she may fall in love with the man. She had fancied him when he courted her, but thought nothing more of it. Now, she felt betrayed and used, but her feelings, while not fickle, could change as the wind did. However, he did not know Adhemar very well at all.

Adhemar's gaze swept over the bruised and battered yet pleasing form of his bride. The unique paladin armor had been removed, leaving her in only white leather shorts and makeshift top. A young apprentice surgeon has finishing placing a large bandage on her right arm. "What can I do to help?" he asked snidely.

The apprentice bowed to him as he backed away. "Nothing, my lord. The princess will awaken shortly. Her body just went into a small bit of shock, 'tis all, my lord."

"Then why was I called in here?" came the reply.

Before Adhemar could blink, the Black Prince of Wales was inches from his face, glaring down at him. "With the Holy Mother and God as my witnesses, if you ever harm my cousin again or even so much as treat her unkindly, I will slaughter you without hesitation, Count Adhemar."

The man's hazel eyes widened a little and he bowed to the prince. "Yes, my lord. It is as you wish." It took him great effort not to sneer. Edward was not a bad man, in fact, he rather admired him. However, the girl would be his and he should be able to treat her as he wished.

"Edward?" The voice was soft, the tone almost pitiful.

After giving him yet another hard look, Edward retook his place at the side of the cot. He reached down to brush her silver hair from her forehead. He spoke to her softly, reassuringly.

Adhemar watched them silently. Once he returned with her to Anjou, he could do as he pleased. His expression remained cold as he heard Edward say, "Count Adhemar is here..."

Slowly, her eyes met his. As hard as he tried, he could not read beyond the glossy stare. Something there tugged at him, but he quickly dismissed it. She should have yielded to him long ago, when he had felt something for her. He nodded to her. "I will see you tonight at banquet, my lady," he said and then swept from the tent.


End file.
